


Lightning Strikes

by DarkPhoenix713



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Justice League, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Cartoon-verse, M/M, Post-Goblet AU, Rambling Narrative, Slight Dumbledore Bashing, Technical Underage Romance, light slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:52:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkPhoenix713/pseuds/DarkPhoenix713
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU The summer after the TriWizard is a difficult one for Harry - Voldemort is back, his friends won't write, and the Dursleys are dragging him to America! What will Harry do as he explores and meets a reporter named Clark Kent, a business man named Bruce Wayne, and a charming forensic investigator named Wally? And what will those he left behind in Britain have to say about his sudden disappearance?</p>
<p>Other than post-GOF, no specific timeline for either fandom - mostly character-driven story.</p>
<p> Warning OOC, Slash and Bash</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Business Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> here is a crossover I can never get enough of - Harry Potter and DC! Actually, Harry Potter and any superhero-type-thing is awesome, I'll eventually be posting an Avengers crossover as well. For now, though, this will have to do.
> 
> Sorry if my updating is slow, I have a lot of storylines, and real life always seems to come knocking right when I'm onto a good part.
> 
> Disclaimers: I own no recognizable characters or referenced material or establishments. 
> 
> Warnings: Light Slashy Romance (really, more awkward shifty crushing than anything) OOC-ness, minor Bashing of the bashable, and dangerous descriptions of any and all food I may be craving as I write

Chapter 1

Harry tossed aside the newspaper with a frustrated sigh. Nothing. Not one hint of activities from Voldemort. The Daily Prophet seemed to be going along with Fudge's statement that 'he can't be back!' Unfortunately, this meant that they had to discredit the 'rumours' Dumbledore was spreading, and the easiest way to do that was to attack his primary source: Harry.

Harry had only done what any victim of kidnapping, torture, and use-in-a-probably-illegal-dark-ritual (he wasn't sure if there were criminal charges pertaining to that, but it had happened), and that was to tell the first person in authority he saw. Now he was being labeled as being delusional! No one had even talked to him; shouldn't one consult a professional before diagnosing a minor through the newspaper?

That brought around another point. No one had talked to him. He had just witnessed a murder! He had screaming nightmares about it that had infuriated his uncle for the two weeks he had been back in Little Whinging. He had gone through a particularly traumatizing event, and no one would answer his questions, or even check to see if he was alright. Of course, Snape would say that he had too high an opinion of himself, but he knew that if a muggle had witnessed somebody dying in an accident, let alone be murdered, there would at the very least be someone to get through the feelings and stuff. 

But no, he had been stuck at Number Four, completely cut off from all of his friends. He had only been getting the newspaper, and after a week of only skimming the front page, he got bored and decided to go through all of the articles, even the apothecary adverts. This is when he had found the little barbs at him. He had written his friends, asking how they were, and had gotten very brief and unhelpful replies. And no questions for him. Hedwig was very grumpy, because he wouldn't sent anymore letters; how could he communicate with people who wouldn't ask or answer his questions? That was the basis of even a casual conversation! Instead he had got 'keep your head down' and 'can't say much here – security risks, y'know?'

No! He didn't know! Needless to say, he wasn't in a very good mood with the wizarding world at the moment.

Harry's angsting was interrupted by the sound of Uncle Vernon's car in the drive. He listened to the gravel being pulverized on the walk, and the slam of the front door. Idly, Harry tracked the noises of his uncle shuffling into the kitchen, where Aunt Petunia was, and was mildly intrigued by the sharply muttered conversation that was interspersed with joyful shrieks and horrified gasps, courtesy of his horse-faced aunt.

Finally, they seemed to finish, and he heard the unexpected bellow from his uncle.

“BOY!”

Harry knew that it was himself being addressed, for although Dudley had almost as many nicknames as stones to his weight, 'boy' was not one of them.

“GET DOWN HERE, NOW!”

Well, there was no helping it. Harry sighed and rolled off of his bed, trudging down the stairs, and into the living room where Uncle Vernon stood, purple-faced and unpleasant. Aunt Petunia stood beside him, looking all at once very pleased and extremely disgusted, which made for an interesting expression on her thin face.

“Boy,” Uncle Vernon started, and Harry inwardly rolled his eyes at the repeated address, “Grunnings has seen fit to entrust me with a rather large deal.” He puffed up expansively, and Aunt Petunia patted his beefy shoulders in adoration. Harry waited for him to get to the point.

“It will be a business venture to the states, and the company will be sending my family with me to see the deal through, and attend functions and the like,” he stated proudly. Harry was thinking of all he could do with a free summer, should he go to the Leaky Cauldron, or stop in on the Weasleys? Before he could continue with that train of thought, his uncle sent it crashing and bouncing off the rails.

“Grunnings somehow remembered that my nephew lives with me, and your expenses are included in the trip. You are expected to show up, and it would be raise suspicion if I turned down their offer. Therefor, you will be coming with us. But I'll warn you now, boy,” he said with his squinty eyes bristling moustache, “if you ruin this, it'll be the end! Got it? Now pack your things, I'm sure you have some school trousers or something not freakish to wear. You'll look decent, got it?”

With a final glare, Vernon snorted in what Harry supposed could be interpreted as righteous indignation, and stormed towards the couch, while Aunt Petunia bustled off to pack for her overweight darlings.

With a huge sigh, Harry started upstairs to pack his meagre possessions. He supposed that he should be thankful – this would break the monotony of Little Whinging quite nicely. There was the added benefit that Voldemort most likely would not be looking for Harry in America, and would not be checking muggle transportation. 

Harry briefly paused to wonder how magical international travel was regulated. Did wizards need visas when they could just apparate and portkey to various places? It always amazed him how little he knew of the magical world. He made a mental note to remedy that.

Harry packed lightly – a backpack full of his school trousers and blouses, with his parents photo album and some books wrapped in his invisibility cloak. He wouldn't be able to take his Firebolt with him, unfortunately.

He looked at his snowy owl, Hedwig, sleeping in her cage. He didn't think he could take her with him, either, and it wouldn't be fair to make her fly all the way to America just to be with him. He would just have to send her to the Weasleys, or Hermione.

Thinking of them brought back the bitterness of being left out of the loop. He was glad he was going on a vacation, Dursleys or not. This Berlin Wall on any information Harry could get was getting increasingly frustrating. A wicked smirk lit up his face; if they weren't going to tell him anything, the he would just have to 'forget' to tell them where he was going. He would have to Slytherinize his request to have Hedwig stay with them.

With his bag all packed, he sat down at his desk with a chuckle. Pulling a piece of parchment towards him, he grinned while his quill flew across the sheet.

 

0000oooo0000oooo

 

Finally, finally, they were on the airplane. Harry had almost died of exasperation as Dudley tried to pack all of his games into a rather large bag that Harry had ended up carrying. He had been stuck with all of the Dursley's matching and over-weight suitcases, at least until the baggage check. Then he was only responsible for his own ratty backpack – no way would his Aunt or Uncle ever trust him with their important carry-on luggage! Harry was entirely in charge with keeping up; his Uncle had given him a passport that he hadn't known he possessed, and told him not to get lost.

With a normal family, getting lost may have been a valid concern. However, both Vernon and Dudley were so large that the crowd seemed to bend away from them – presumably to keep from being enveloped in their rolls of lard. Amused and mildly disgusted at the mental image, Harry trailed the three with ease, looking around interestedly at the airport.

Harry had never left the country before, so even if he had to put up with the Dursleys, he was fairly excited. It wasn't like he would be around them for the majority of the time, and they could hardly lock him in the room at his age. He would be able to get out, and see the sights of ... wherever it was they were going. Blinking, Harry realized that his uncle had never actually mentioned a destination. Checking his ticket, he puzzled out that the were headed for Metropolis. It sounded distinctly modern, but Harry had never heard of it.

After a while of waiting in the boarding area, during which time Dudley had gone to each of the fast food eateries in the food court and ordered the greasiest thing they had, the boarding call came. First was business class, which Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were in. Vernon swelled up as he got in line, looking around to make sure that everyone saw that he was an important business person. Aunt Petunia sniffed and turned up her nose at the women not getting in line, as they were evidently flying economy and therefor far beneath her. Harry was just glad that they wouldn't be in the same section as him.

Dudley had kicked up a fuss when he learned that he would be flying economy, but Uncle Vernon had blustered at the check-in lady and ended up paying a bit extra for a seat in the bulkhead, with extra legroom and a direct view of the television. Harry was amazed that they had television on airplanes. He was actually starting to get quite nervous about the flight, and was glad that he wouldn't be near Dudley, either. He didn't need his cousin's torment when he was already panicking about not being in control in the air.

Uncle Vernon had secured Harry the cheapest seat at the back of the plane. Harry suspected that most of the seats were around the same price in economy, and Vernon had only specified the back so that Harry would be as far away as possible from business class. Harry honestly didn't mind. 

The back of the plane was actually very quiet, as the flight wasn't totally full, and most of the passengers were near the front. Harry had been booked an aisle seat instead of the coveted window seat, but there was no one in the two seats beside him. There was an older couple across the aisle, but they seemed nice. There was also a middle-aged woman with a baby in front of him, which Harry eyed warily. He didn't mind children, but he had heard enough screaming from Dudley to know that he dreaded the noise, especially in an enclosed space like the aircraft.

Harry paid rapt attention when the flight attendant demonstrated the safety procedures for the flight, and waited nervously for take-off. The old woman beside him smiled at him and offered him a stick of gum, which he accepted gratefully. With a lurch, the plane began to move, and Harry's heart jumped to his throat, only to hover there awkwardly while it realized that this didn't really feel any different than riding in a car, and was certainly not as thrilling or dangerous as diving on a broomstick. Harry finally relaxed – he could handle this.

Half an hour later, Harry was busy watching the in-flight movie, happily sipping at a gingerale, neither of which he had ever been allowed to experience in Little Whinging. Humming happily along to the movie's soundtrack, Harry began feeling cautiously optimistic about Metropolis.

ooo00000oooo0000

Harry stepped into the baggage claim area, rolling his stiff neck and keeping a sharp eye out for the Dursley's luggage. His Aunt had shrilled at him to get it, and so he was staking out the odd conveyor belt contraption. Dudley was whining to his parents about how bored he was, and how terrible the food had been, while Aunt Petunia whipped out a sugary snack and Uncle Vernon blustered loudly about flying in business class for the the benefit of all those who could hear.

After going through customs and being scanned for any sort of weapon, Harry and the Dursleys were blinking in the harsh lighting of the Arrivals area. Harry spotted someone with a sign reading 'Dursley – Grunnings' and waited for his uncle to notice. He would do himself no favours by speaking up. He allowed his eyes to wander some more, and was very shocked when he saw a sign saying 'Welcome to Wizarding Metropolis!'.

He gazed at the information booth under the sign for a second, before he started to drift towards it. It was conveniently near the Grunnings Sign Man, so he felt no qualms in going over and picking up a brochure. This trip just kept getting better and better!

Vernon finally saw the sign, and the family made its way over, joined by Harry. They were led to a posh-looking car, and driven to a very posh-looking hotel. Aunt Petunia was putting on airs, and Uncle Vernon was blustering importantly, while Dudley looked petulant and bored. Harry felt very out of place in the fine environment, and was slightly conscious of how the Dursleys stood out against the rest of the clientele. He shrugged and turned away; it wasn't really his problem if they made arses of themselves. 

They were led to a suite of rooms that Harry thought was very nicely laid out, if a bit impersonal. Aunt Petunia evidently didn't think so, as she immediately started wiping down surfaces and straightening the bedclothes in the rooms, while the bellman unloaded the luggage awkwardly. There was a master bedroom, and another room with two double beds, and a common area with a living room set and a television. Harry didn't really see why that was there, as there were also televisions in the bedrooms, but he didn't say anything. The master bedroom had an attached bathroom with a jaccuzi tub, while the regular bathroom just had a shower stall.

Aunt Petunia finished her inspection of the suite, before fixing her beady eye on Harry.

“You will be on the couch, boy. I'll not have you disturbing Diddykins' sleep! We must get rested up, darlings!” 

This last wasn't said to Harry, who would have been alarmed if it had, but to the two more corpulent males in the room. Harry was about to point out that there were two beds in the other room, but on reflection, he didn't want to instigate his uncle's ire, and he supposed he would be thankful for a wall between him and Dudley's snores.

So he just nodded at his aunt, who was ignoring him in favour of organizing the unpacking. Dudley and Vernon had hidden away in their respective rooms, so Harry, exhausted from the long journey, fished out a pillow and blanket from the closet and collapsed on the couch.


	2. Magical Metropolis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up to his first full day in America! What can he do but check out the Wizarding community in Metropolis?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General Disclaimers: I don't own anything recognizable from either HP or DC universes. Universi? Whatever.
> 
> Please enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 2

Harry awoke feeling very grungy. His mouth was dry, his clothes were wrinkled, and he was still very tired. He would probably still be sleeping, if the sunlight hadn't been streaming through the sheer curtains directly into his face. Judging by the lack of noise coming from both bedrooms, the Dursleys were still asleep, and would remain so for the foreseeable future. Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes, and reached blindly for his glasses on the side table. Finding them, Harry sighed as his vision cleared and he saw a note near where his glasses had been. He almost snorted in amusement at the idea of Aunt Petunia leaving it – for it had surely been her, as Uncle Vernon would have just shouted the information at him, and he wasn't even sure if Dudley could write properly. His Aunt had probably dithered for several minutes over his sleeping form, before setting the paper on very edge of the table furthest from him and poked it in his direction. Smirking at the mental image, he picked up the note, written on hotel stationary, and scanned it.

It was brief; it informed him that there was no need for him to be around today, and that she didn't want to see him until evening. There was a complimentary breakfast until 10:00, and she had given him a room key so that he wasn't bothering the family at all hours. There was even five American dollars on the table. In short, Aunt Petunia didn't want to see any part of Harry unless absolutely necessary. This was perfectly fine with Harry, though he snorted at the money. Five dollars in a city as large as Metropolis would not stretch very far. He was lucky that there was a magical sector to investigate – he would have to ask about oversea withdrawals once he found a bank.

The clock on the wall said that it was 7 in the morning, so Harry got up quietly and slipped into the bathroom with his bag. It was lovely, with little bottles of shampoo and conditioner, and fluffy white face cloths and towels. He dug around for the ones not on display, as Dudley or Aunt Petunia would surely notice them missing, turned the taps before hopping under the instantly steaming water. The shower was very quiet, for which he was grateful, as he had no intention of waking the Dursleys any time soon. Finishing up, he hopped out and dried himself quickly with one of the towels, before getting dressed. It was simply another pair of black school trousers and a white button-up shirt, but judging from the sun that had woken him he wouldn't be need a jacket too desperately. Harry washed his teeth and then exited the bathroom, leaving it as spotless as when he had entered. 

Glancing once more at the brusque note, Harry grabbed his room key – a rectangle of plastic that looked similar to his Uncle's bank cards – and toed into his school shoes. No way was he wearing Dudley's ratty, cast-off trainers. Shouldering his bag, he quietly left the suite, allowing the door to close with a quiet 'click'.

Harry paused in the hallway to get his bearings. He was standing outside a door numbered 1014, and he filed that away for future reference. He had the address of the hotel with him – it was on the stationary Aunt Petunia had written her note on – so now he just had to figure out a way to that breakfast she had mentioned. Vaguely recalling the direction they had come from last night, Harry eventually made his way to the elevator, and proceeded down to the ground floor. Once there, it took only some careful observation and attentive sign-reading to find his way to the dining room, where a buffet breakfast was being served. As he queued up behind a group of men in what could be classed as 'smart-casual' wear, Harry took in the atmosphere. It was very different from the dingy Leaky Cauldron, or the busy Three Broomsticks. Here, people sat in a well-lit room, chatting quietly and serving themselves from the buffet. Servers fetched drinks and cleared dishes, and it was all very relaxing and well-suited to the morning, Harry felt.

The group of men were seated, and Harry made his way to a podium, behind which a uniformed woman stood with a notebook.

“Room number?” she inquired.

Harry blinked, and fumbled for his card.

“Ah, 1014. Booked under Dursley?” Harry said, flashing the bit of plastic at the woman, who smiled at him, and marked something down in her book.

“Excellent. Is that a table for one, then? Parents having a lie-in?” the woman, Sarah her name tag read, asked with a grin.

Harry gave a hesitant answering smile. 

“My aunt, uncle and cousin, yeah. Bit of a time change. I was told breakfast is complimentary...?” Harry trailed off, uncertain as to how things worked here. He didn't want to eat something and have his uncle charged. Vernon would be less than pleased.

Sarah smiled again – she seemed to do that a lot – and answered cheerfully.

“Oh, yes. The buffet is included, but if you want to order something we charge it. The buffet includes everything on those tables near the back wall, and the drinks, but our servers can fetch those for you. No worries at all. Now why don't I set you up at this table over by the window, and you can get started!” With yet another smile, Sarah indicated a small table midway between the exit and the food. Harry thanked her and went to the table to set down his bag.

Glancing around, he made his way to the food tables, uncertain as to what he would find. Between Hogwarts and the Weasleys, he was accustomed to a rather heavy spread, and the the Dursleys took things all out of proportion with the sheer amount Harry was required to cook in the mornings. So it was that he was pleasantly surprised to encounter light cereals and fresh fruit alongside a selection of more traditional breakfast fare. Harry loaded up a plate with sausages and eggs, but also served himself large bowl of berries. He even took a small dish of yogurt, out of curiosity. He made his way back to his table, carefully navigating through the other diners and their chairs and tables. Finally setting down his plunder, Harry was almost immediately approached by a woman he almost thought was Sarah due to the large smile she was sporting. Perhaps it was a job requirement – extra large smiles at all times.

The new woman, Jessica, asked if he would like coffee, tea or juice, and he settled for the American black tea. It was rather weak, even though it claimed to be an English Breakfast tea, but Harry supposed it would do. 

He savoured the quiet meal by himself – at Hogwarts or at the Burrow, it was extremely loud at every meal, as he was sitting with a house full of Gryffindors at both locations. At the Dursley's, the meals where he was allowed to eat were punctuated with glares and not at all filling. As he was sipping at the last of his tea, he rummaged around in his bag to find the brochure on Magical Metropolis. Apparently there was an entrance near to a city landmark – the Daily Planet building. Smiling to himself, Harry quaffed the last of his tea and stood up, ready to set out.

0000oooo0000oooo

Harry stood outside of a rather nondescript cafe, searching for the clues mentioned in the brochure. He believed that this was the place, but it seemed that Muggles could see the establishment perfectly well; there was a large amount of them inside, queueing up for coffee. With a shrug, Harry entered, brushing past a pair of office-workers and making his way towards the back of the store. Once he reached a rather empty corner, he was shocked to note that most of the customers were full-out ignoring him. It was as though he didn't exist. Come to think of it, for such a busy cafe, this corner seemed to be very unpopular. It then clicked – this was the result of magic, and he was almost in Magical Metropolis. Now he just had to...

Harry sat at the table in the very corner and brought out his wand. There was a nice seating area back here, really, with a large couch and several mismatched chairs. He supposed that this was to accommodate large groups. He brought out his wand, and somewhat self-consciously tapped the table twice with it. There was a sudden shift in his perception, and everything seemed backwards; he was in the same seat, except it was in a shop that appeared to be the mirror of the muggle one. Here the clientele was more varied, with obvious magical beings chatting and drinking in the brightly-lit establishment. After a moment to get his bearings, Harry stood, adjusting his bag on his shoulder, and began navigating through the crowd to exit the building.

Once out in the street, he took a moment to observe. Magical Metropolis was very different from Diagon Alley. The streets and buildings seemed to be congruent with the architecture in the muggle world, only with more magical displays and advertising. It was much more organized, and he saw sign-posts everywhere. Grinning, Harry flattened his fringe – he didn't know how well the story of the Boy-Who-Lived had spread, but he'd rather not take chances – and started off in the direction that a sign reading 'Gringotts' had pointed to.

As he went down the street, he noticed many stores promising very interesting merchandise. Magical America seemed far more in-tune with muggle culture than in Britain; while there were the traditional robes stores, and an apothecary, Harry also spotted a shop named 'Charmed Civvies' that promised enchanted garments in the latest muggle styles. There was also a very interesting shop that had muggle electronics in the window, with signs reading 'Now integrating MC – Magical Current!' It was all very clever, and Harry wanted to browse through everything, but he needed money first. So he continued on his way to the bank.

Gringotts was not a white marble building here; instead it managed to come across as posh, modern, and intimidating, all at once. Harry was slightly nervous going in, but he saw the same threatening poem on the inner doors which, oddly enough, reassured him. He made his way across the darkly-tiled floor to the nearest unoccupied teller.

Harry cleared his throat and addressed the Goblin behind the desk,

“Hello, I'm visiting from Britain and I was wondering if you have a procedure for international withdrawals?” he asked nervously.

The Goblin surveyed him for a moment, before replying,

“If you have an account at Gringotts, and sufficient identification, we will be able to accommodate you. You will not be able to visit your vault, of course, but we provide several withdrawal services, all charged accordingly,” the Goblin told him in a neutral tone. Goblins seemed to be much more polite in America, Harry thought.

“Ah, what kind of identification?” Harry asked worriedly. 

“Your vault key or wand will suffice,” the Goblin said.

Harry sighed in relief, and presented his wand to the Goblin, who examined it minutely before placing it on a small scale. Finally, it looked up.

“All is in order, Mr. Potter,” it said, eyes flicking only briefly to Harry's forehead before refocusing. “What sort of withdrawal service do you require?”

“Well, I'd like to buy things here, and in the muggle world, can you do that?” Harry asked hopefully.

The Goblin nodded and said, “Indeed, we can offer our expanded wallet for transactions in both worlds. It allows you to withdraw exact amounts for your purchases. Muggle money stands at three to the Galleon at the moment, and as you are still a minor you have a daily spending limit of 200 Galleons. Will that serve?”

Harry nodded quickly, excited at the prospect of not having to carry a large amount of gold with him.

“Sounds excellent,” he said, “I'll take it!”

The Goblin nodded and made a note on an unseen ledger before reaching into a drawer and pulling out a rather nice leather wallet. It went over the features with Harry, explaining how to withdraw money, and how to personalize it to prevent theft. With a brisk nod, Harry was sent on his way, financial matters taken care of.

As Harry stepped out into the bright street, he wondered why Britain didn't have something like this. All that going down in carts to grab bags of coins seemed very inefficient. Not to mention out-dated. The banking system here was very convenient, and blended in far better with muggle lifestyle. Harry smiled wryly at how backwards everything was back home.

He set off down the street, not knowing which store to visit first. A travel shop caught his eye, and he entered it, wondering what they had available for tourists. It seemed to accommodate any kind of travel – there were trunks, suitcases, bags and purses. There was a vacation section and adverts for things like flying carpets, or 'City Ports' whatever they were.

Harry found a rather nice messenger bag made of softened leather. It was had expansion charms on it that were compartmentalized for easier organization, and it had a proportional lightening charm on it so that it never got too heavy. It was a far cry better than his current knapsack, which was a hand-me-down from Dudley, so Harry made the purchase with a smile. 

He left the shop and drifted through the magical district, seeing the different pet shops and book stores, and enjoying himself overall. He braved the clothes store that sold muggle clothing, and left with some outfits that were much nicer than any he had had before. In fact, he left wearing one of them – some artfully faded jeans coupled with a red shirt with a lightning logo on it. He had been vaguely amused by the insignia, and had noted a few other interesting shirts with similar logos. There had been a sort of bat, a green ... shape ... and a stylized 'S', but Harry found the irony of the lightning bolt too much to resist. He was also wearing some amazing shoes called converse that he had internally gushed over.

Harry actually hadn't realized how much he liked clothes before. He had never had much choice with Dudley's old things, and at Hogwarts he wore the uniform. The sales clerk had loved helping him choose what he liked.

It was getting on towards lunch time, and Harry had an eye out for somewhere to eat. He passed a plaza that had several arches set up behind a low wall, and paused as he noticed a familiar sign. It read 'City Ports' and he remembered seeing an advert in the travel store for them. He wandered closer to the booth where the information was, and saw that it was an ingenious system of doorways between cities.

Apparently, they were a relatively new development that brought together concepts from floo powder and portkeys. They were spelled doorways that led to different cities in America that contained a magical district. There was a charge to use the doorway, but it was much less dirty than using floo, and sustained multiple uses, unlike portkeys. Harry thought it was a brilliant idea, and scanned the list of available cities.

One of the closest, and cheapest was Central city, which had excellent restaurant and entertainment reviews for both the magical and muggle side. Grinning, Harry paid his fare, and stepped through the Central City portal, ready to explore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will Harry do next? Bwahahaha!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it, if you have anything to say, good or bad, constructive or just squealing, I'm happy to read it all! If it's mean and nasty, you'll probably be laughed at, though. Fair warning.
> 
> Next chapter we see the reactions in Britain...


	3. London Calling - or Owling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Order is informed that Harry has flown the coop, so to speak. What will they do? How will Dumbledore react? Sirius? Snape? Harry is in danger, and they only want what's best for him! Or do they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a little look at what's happening back in the UK. 
> 
> Disclaimers: The toys I'm playing with are not mine, so don't get in a fuss about it.
> 
> Warnings: Sirius Black - in all His awesomeness. Mild insolence and language? Nothing, really....
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 3

Sirius Black was bored. Actually, he was a number of things, but bored featured the most prominently on his emotional scale. This was mainly due to the fact that he was stuck in his musty old childhood home, unable to go anywhere else without being promptly arrested. Well, perhaps not so promptly; the Aurors seemed to be doing a crap job with catching the actual Dark wizards lately, but it still wasn't safe. The not-so-secretly-resurrected Dark Lord probably knew about his grand disguise, no thanks to that rat traitor, so Sirius was in a bind.

He was stuck playing host to the Order of the Phoenix, which contained a small variety of witches and wizards Albus Dumbledore felt were trustworthy. This, of course, meant that they either worked at Hogwarts; were a Weasley; had a connection to Harry; or had no political significance whatsoever. Perhaps Sirius was being a bit harsh on his fellow members, but they honestly seemed to be doing a fat lot of nothing while seeming to do something. A fact which he greatly resented, because everyone knew that Sirius had nothing to do, and some (Snape!) were very condescending about it. When everyone else was doing just as little as he was – less, actually, when one took the cleaning war he was waging on the house into account – it was just cause for frustration.

So it was that Sirius cycled through stages of apathy, anger, restlessness, depression, anxiety, and boredom, with perhaps a few instances of inebriation thrown in. What he truly wanted to do was contact Harry, really see how he was doing, but Dumbledore seemed to believe that it was best for a traumatized teenager to be abandoned with his uncaring relatives for unspecified amounts of time. Sirius had been extremely irate about that, but could do nothing against the Headmaster with his status as a wanted man. He knew that the lack of information would be getting to Harry, and could only hope that he didn't do anything too stupid. That being said, he also hoped that Harry could manufacture himself some entertainment.

Sirius sighed and focused in on the dingy kitchen he was sitting in. It was still grimy and dark, no matter how many times Molly Weasley took her wand to it, and the Order members that were seating themselves around the table looked uneasy in the atmosphere the room gave off. Sirius didn't mind; it helped project his dark brooding, and offset his Azkaban pallor nicely, making everyone who glanced his way mildly unsettled. Cheap entertainment, but as stated earlier, Sirius was bored.

His interest was piqued when there was a minor bit of shuffling at the door, and the Order members turned to look at the intruder. Sirius wondered why Dumbledore hadn't set up wards yet for the super-secret-meeting-held-in-dingy-basement-kitchen, but the old man was just looking at the small grouping of teens with an indulgent twinkle in his eye.

“Fred! George!” a bustling Molly Weasley yelped, “What have I told you? You're still in school, you're not allowed in the Order!”

Sirius peered through the rapidly accumulating haze of Mundungus Fletcher's pipe smoke at the teenagers. He saw three of them, two admittedly red-headed, but they were far from identical. So it was confusing as to why Molly Weasley would address her youngest children, one of which was quite certainly a girl, as her seventeen-year-old sons. The kids were evidently confused as well, with the only brunette, Harry's friend Hermione, looking uncertainly between Ron and Ginny.

Before anyone could say anything, another red head popped into the doorway.

“Aw, mum,” it said, “it's bad enough when you can't even tell us apart,” he broke off as an identical head appeared on the opposite side of the frame, and it continued the sentence seamlessly,

“But now you've gone and confused Gin Gin and Ickle Ronniekins with us!” there was a slight pause, before the voices said in unison,

“That's just not on!”

Sirius grinned at the byplay. Molly Weasley was looking rather flustered. She stammered for all of a second, then rallied and snapped out,

“Well, I was right, you're here and you're interrupting! Now what was it you wanted, Hermione dear? Ginny?” Her tone changed to one of kind indulgence.

The remaining nonidentical male red-head in the doorway grumbled a bit.

“No, I didn't want anything. Just standing here, don't mind me...” He trailed off as his mother glared at him. 

The frizzy-haired witch, one Hermione Granger, whom Sirius knew from a rather singular evening involving an abandoned shack, a werewolf and a hippogriff (and no – contrary to his deviant reputation, it's not what it sounds like, she was maybe fourteen for Merlin's sake!) cleared her throat.

“Sorry to interrupt, Professors, Mrs. Weasley, and ah -” here she looked uncertain, then said questioningly, “Sirius' guests?” She recovered quickly from her momentary confusion and continued. “It's just, Hedwig's just arrived, and Harry has sent a few letters...”

Sirius, who had leapt to his feet at the word 'Hedwig', made to snatch the bundle of parchment from the girl's hands. She had letters! From Harry! And she wasn't sharing, damn her!

Before it got to the point of Sirius full out tackling the young genius, Dumbledore intervened. Gently plucking the bundle from Hermione's grasp, he quickly perused the addressees before saying cheerfully, 

“Thank you, Miss Granger, and no apologies are necessary. It is always a pleasure to hear from Harry.”

In a shadowy corner (well, even more shadowy than usual, Sirius amended) Severus Snape snorted. Sirius glared at him, or rather, into the depth of the shadows he was fairly certain contained the Potions Master, but said nothing. He wanted a letter from Harry.

Hermione smiled tremulously at the Headmaster, flushing in a pleased manner at his address. She cleared her throat and asked,

“Sir, would it be alright to write back and actually tell him things? I'm sure he's feeling very isolated at the moment, and I've read about Post Traumatic -” Here the girl had adopted a voice Sirius imagined a textbook would have – if textbooks were to have vocal chords, that is. She had transformed from concerned best friend to Gryffindor know-it-all so suddenly the animagus wondered if she was also a werewolf – she was so like Moony!

He had mixed feeling when Dumbledore interrupted the girl and calmly shooed the teenagers out the door, assuring them that Harry was fine and it was far to dangerous to write him with any information. He didn't want to listen to the girl go on, but he hated that Harry was out there all alone, with nothing to do but write stacks of letters to people who didn't answer back.

He sighed as Dumbledore sat down, flicking his wand at the door to prevent eavesdropping. Serenely, the Headmaster slit open the parchment and perused the letter with growing alarm. Reaching the end, he set the parchment down on the grubby table and sighed out, “Oh, dear.”

“What is it?” Sirius asked sharply, narrowing his eyes at Dumbledore.

The rest of the Order fidgeted in their seats, obviously curious, but unwilling to verbally accost the Headmaster as Sirius had.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and nodded at the letter, saying “It appears that Harry and his relatives have left Privett Drive indefinitely.”

“What?” Sirius – he would later deny this to any who pointed it out – shrieked, and lunged across the table to grasp at Harry's letter. At the last moment, Dumbledore flicked the parchment out of his reach, leaving Sirius sprawled across his own kitchen table while Order members broke out into worried gasps and exclamations. The din rose as Sirius settled himself again, with Molly Weasley being the most vocal of the grouping. Finally, a waspish voice cut through the babble spouting from the witches and wizards.

“Perhaps, Headmaster, if you were to dispense with the theatrics and actually read the letter aloud, something constructive could be gained from this ... gathering,” Severus Snape sneered from the shadows. Sirius bared his teeth, but refrained from his usual antagonizing of his school rival; he may hate the greasy git, but he wanted to hear what Harry had to say.

“Of course, Severus, how remiss of me,” Dumbledore said, and the Order members settled down once more, hanging off the words of the Headmaster. Sirius fidgeted in his seat as Dumbledore ponderously flattened the letter with his long fingers, delicately picked it up, and adjusted his half-moon spectacles while clearing his throat in preparation. Sirius mentally rolled his eyes at the aptly named 'theatrics'. Dumbledore appeared ready, and with a firm voice read out the letter:

 

Greetings, Withholders of Information!

I decided not to reciprocate your barricading of news, and thought you might want to know that Uncle Vernon is traveling for his company. The family is going with him, and that apparently includes me, now. So no need to send your useless letters to Surrey; they'd be better served as kindling or something. I don't think I'll tell you where we're going – I'm just petty enough to want to make you a bit frustrated. Have fun finding me, I'll be taking care to hide from Lord Zombie, so we'll see how well I do, yeah? 

Although I am frustrated with all of you, I solemnly swear on all the lemon drops ever that I am NOT up to no good – just thought I'd have a vacation before a certain someone decides to kill me. Have a nice summer!

Cheers,

Harry

 

Molly Weasley immediately began shrieking about how poor Harry had been dragged off by those awful muggles, while McGonagall was hissing in Dumbledore's ear. Tonks, Remus and Kingsley were huddled at one end of the table, presumably combining their knowledge of muggles and 'company trips'. There were many suggested courses of action, some quite brutal (Moody) and some rather ridiculous (Molly Weasley), and none noticed that the usually easily-riled Sirius Black was not contributing to the plans, or demanding to take part in them. None noticed him sitting back, quite at ease in the heavy chair, with a triumphant gleam in his eye. None, except for a certain Potions Master.

The discussion finally wound down when everyone realized that they had no leads, and no plan of action for the time being. Dumbledore assigned several witches and wizards to try and locate Harry, and adjourned the meeting. As the Headmaster was preparing to leave, Sirius spoke up.

“Sir?”

Dumbledore turned, and saw a defeated man. Sirius Black, escaped convict on the run from Azkaban, who lived for two things; vengeance, and his godson, Harry Potter, was slumped in place. He saw a man with nothing left but the quiet desperation leaking out of his tired eyes.

“What is it, my boy?” he asked gently, while the Potions Master in the corner snorted quietly.

“Could I – could I please have Harry's letter? It's just, he's gone, and I can't do anything, and I – he -” Sirius broke off, looking lost and pleading. He looked very similar to a kicked puppy out in a thunderstorm, and couldn't help but wonder if he was overdoing it. But no, Dumbledore's eyes softened, and a beatific smile appeared on his face. If the letter would keep Sirius in Grimmauld Place, then it was a small price to pay. Harry could not have enchanted it, there were no hidden messages to be gained. With a gentle gesture, he passed the note to Sirius, who held it carefully, like it was his last link to life. Looking as though he had just performed a very good deed, the Headmaster of Hogwarts exited the dingy kitchen with quiet grace.

0000oooo0000

Severus Snape stared at the bowed head of his childhood enemy. A less observant person would have missed the shadowed smirk on his lips, or mistaken the quivering of his shoulders as sorrow. As it was, Severus was a very observant man – he was a spy, for Merlin's sake – and he knew that Sirius was trying to hold back gleeful laughter. Sure enough, when Black evidently thought he was alone, he let out a bark of laughter, and spun around wildly with the letter, before coming to a halt and kissing it soundly.

“Thatta boy!” he crowed, “what a way to get back at them! Oh, James would be so proud – what message have you left for me, my little Prongslet?”

“Why do you have any indication that a message has been left?” Severus broke in on the man's rambling, and was satisfied with a great start of shock from the animagus. “Dumbledore was unable to detect any hidden messages. There is nothing concealed there.”

Black looked Severus over with a shrewd, calculating gaze much more Slytherin than Severus was comfortable with. It was easy to forget, even in a house such as this, how Sirius had been raised. He was always so loudly Gryffindor that everyone forgot: fundamentally, Sirius was a Black. And the Blacks were ruthless, at the end of the day.

Severus seemed to pass some sort of test, because Black waved Potter's letter in front of his face. 

“What do you smell, Snivellous? Put that big beak of yours to good use, yeah?” Black said with a sneer Lucius Malfoy himself would struggle to emulate.

Scowling, Severus did as directed, and took a careful whiff. The scent was instantly recognizable. Severus smelled it whenever he was dragged into the Headmaster's office.

“Lemons,” he said curtly, “obviously the Headmaster has been in contact with it for too long -” he broke off when he saw the manic grin forming on Black's face.

“Don't you see?” Black gushed, “how brilliant it is? Dumbledore doesn't even register the smell of lemons anymore! And do you know anything about invisible ink?”

Severus sighed impatiently. 

“The Headmaster would have detected such a simple thing, Black,” he said scathingly. Black's grin only widened.

“No, not our invisible ink. Muggle invisible ink! Harry put the code in – see the reference to – well, you wouldn't know the password, but then he mentions lemons, so then obviously -” Black whipped out his wand, and produced a small flame. He was obviously delusional from being cooped up in here for so long. But niggling at the back of Severus' brain was a red-headed girl, excitedly running up with lemons and paper, a secretive smirk on her face...

As Severus recalled an almost forgotten facet of his childhood, brown letters began to fade in behind the black of the ink. Potter had evidently written a message in lemon juice, to be intercepted by one in on this juvenile secret. He almost snorted at the simplicity, but stopped, realizing that it had gotten past Dumbledore, so obviously something was being done right. Black was still grinning.

“I can't believe I forgot this! I could have been sending Harry loads of information! He's probably furious!” Black said, smiling despite his proclaimed worry over his godson's ire. The hidden message was simple, but far more helpful. 

 

Padfoot,

I'm hoping you're the only one who picked up on this, and you let me have my fun hiding from people. I'm putting this in in the hope that you might want to join me? Or not. We'll be in America, and you should be able to track down where exactly through Uncle Vernon's company. Please don't get caught. If you can't come, no problem – I can entertain myself. 

Harry

 

Severus had to give it to the boy, it was clever. And he was well-versed enough in the muggle world to know just how to go about getting the information from the company, something he was sure Black had taken into account when showing him the hidden message. Turning to Black, he raised a single eyebrow.

“Well, then, mutt? What are you going to do with this information?” he asked in dry voice.

“Well,” Black said, letting the fire on the end of his wand flare and engulf the parchment, “I'm going to track Harry down, and try to make sure you don't run to either of your masters to tell them where he is.”

Severus started a sneering comment, but before he could even open his mouth, Black interrupted him.

“How would you like to come with me to America? A little vacation, all expenses paid out of the Black family vault.” Black's grin could be described as 'shit-eating' it was so wide, and Severus internally juggled his obligations, and the cover stories he would have to construct to pursue this venture. He thought of his vows, and the preeminent one stood forth in his mind, blazing like fire and dimming all the others. 

Protect Lily's son.

With a resigned sigh, he gave a brisk nod to Black, who grinned, if possible, even wider, and set to planning their escapade across the pond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on the reactions? I liked them. I'm not really involving Lupin atm, not because I don't like him, but because he's busy with stuff, and Snape is cool.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, and I'd love to get your feedback! HEAVY HINT: I'll probably post faster with more comments, I'm kind of an attention junkie in that way.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> DarkPhoenix


	4. Lunch in Central

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to Central and runs into a talkative red head! Attempted humour abounds!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey! Another chapter por ustedes! Don't say anything about my terrible Spanish.
> 
> Disclaimers: I own nothing! Well, at least nothing to do with the characters etc in this story.
> 
> Warnings: misunderstandings pertaining to societal deviancy - gasp!
> 
> Random: Just a note - I am Canadian, which means more often than not, I use British spelling. Or 'English English' as some people might say. I've got nothing against American *cough-lazy-cough* spelling, but it really makes it a bitch to see all those stupid red squiggly lines under my 'ou' words. It causes me to freak out thinking that I've made horrible typos - which I do - and then I sit back and have to remember what I did wrong! Haha. 
> 
> I also think that 'muggle' and 'wizarding' should just be added to the goddamn dictionary already. If the 'doh' got put in because of the Simpsons, they could at least do that. I'm serious, 'doh' isn't even squiggled right now. Rawr.
> 
> Anyway, rant over, please enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 4

Central City was noticeably smaller than Metropolis. There were fewer skyscrapers, and less city-bustle through the streets. There were fewer fast-paced people dressed in business suits – everyone seemed friendly and they all seemed to know each other. 

Harry had left the smaller Wizarding portion of Central city rather quickly, and was making his way down the Muggle streets, looking for somewhere to have his lunch. A cheery-looking diner caught his eye, and Harry stepped inside, the bell ringing on the door as he opened it.

“Hello there!” A friendly waitress approached him, smiling just as much as the one from the hotel. “You can grab a seat wherever you like, and I'll be right with you!” Harry smiled softly and nodded, before selecting a stool at the counter. He didn't feel like sitting in a booth all by himself.

The waitress drifted over and handed him a menu. Harry was perusing this, trying to decide between two delicious-sounding sandwiches, when the bell on the door rang.

“Wally!” the waitresses smile grew, if possible, even bigger. “The usual, yes? It'll be right out!”

Someone sat down on the stool beside him, and with his nose still in the menu, Harry peered at him out of the corner of his eye. He did a mild double take, and turned to look fully at the man, ran his eyes over him, then let out a relieved breath. He had seen a flash of red hair, and had thought, for one wild moment, that one of the Weasleys had found him. But no, this was just a normal American man, a rather handsome one at that, with vibrantly red hair who was sitting down for lunch. 

Said lunch was brought out by the smiling waitress, who set it down in front of 'Wally' before turning to Harry.

“Have you decided, then?” She inquired with a chirp.

Harry nodded and said “The chicken and bacon club, please,” before folding up his menu and handing it to the girl.

The red-head beside him spoke up.

“Yum, that's an awesome sandwich! Good choice!” he said enthusiastically.

Harry smiled and turned to him. “Do you come here often?” he asked.

“Yup!” the man said with a nod, “Wally West, here for my lunch break.” He introduced himself, holding out his hand. Harry only hesitated a moment before he took it. He figured he was fairly safe in Muggle America. His name shouldn't draw attention, so why not be friendly?

“Harry Potter,” he said, grasping Wally's hand firmly and shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Wally grinned. “Cool accent, by the way. Are you from Britain?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Yes, England. I'm here on vacation,” Harry replied honestly. Wally nodded, and dived into his lunch, eating with a gusto that reminded Harry of another red haired young man who was very in love with food. The waitress came by with Harry's sandwich, and the two ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Harry was just starting to sip at a tea he had asked for when Wally spoke again.

“So, you're a Flash fan?”

Harry spluttered and choked on his drink. Had he heard that correctly?

“Pardon me?” he asked weakly.

Wally gestured vaguely to his clothes, and Harry hoped he wasn't thinking what he thought he was thinking. Then Harry got tangled up in his thought process, so he almost missed Wally's next words.

“Your shirt,” he said, “you're a fan of the Flash?”

Oh dear, Harry thought, how could he think I do that on a regular basis ... does this shirt mean something?

“Er, no, I'm not a particular fan of that sort of thing,” he muttered awkwardly, his cheeks flaming. Really, Wally had seemed like such a nice guy, but to ask an almost-stranger if he went streaking on a regular basis... these Americans really were less restrained than the British! Oh, and now Harry felt like a total prat, because Wally had a sort of crest-fallen expression that looked mildly hurt.

“Oh,” he said, “was it the Flash specifically you didn't like, or just the League in general?”

Harry was stunned.

“You have a League for that sort of thing?” he gasped incredulously. Wally looked at him askance, and smiled faintly.

“Of course. You've never heard of it? I think that they wanted the practitioners to be a bit more organized – that way they know where to go and stuff. There's usually one or two for every major city, I think.”

“Every city?” Harry yelped. “You mean that they're just running around at all hours? And they're encouraged to do so?” That's it, he decided. Americans were crazy. Sure, they had some cool magic, and the cities were beautiful, but this was just too much. Wally continued, looking mildly puzzled over Harry's reactions.

“Well of course. Can you imagine the chaos there would be if they didn't do what they did? The public feel much more secure with them out there, doing what they do best.” Wally smiled serenely.

This was unbelievable. The citizens were reassured by this sort of behaviour? Mad, all of them – mad!

“Well, I hope I don't see any!” Harry said vehemently, “that is definitely not the sort of thing I want to get caught up in!” Again, Wally looked vaguely hurt, but he shrugged and nodded.

“I suppose that it does get a bit scary for the civilians,” he mused, “but they do their job, and make sure no one gets hurt, so it turns out all right in the end.” This he said assertively, with a gleam in his eyes. “But you seem to have a real problem with them, Harry,” he said suddenly. “Why is that?”

Harry drew himself up and said huffily, “I think most decent people would have a problem with groups running around starkers and flashing people all the time! You Americans, absolutely mad, the lot of you!” Harry was tomato-red with embarrassment, but he felt that he had to make his opinion known. Wally was really nice, but, blame it on his Britishness – Harry just wasn't comfortable with some things the American man took for granted. I wonder if Aunt Petunia has found out about them yet, he mused while looking at Wally's suddenly gobsmacked expression. His mouth was opening and closing as if he were trying to speak, but no words were coming out. Finally he managed to gasp out,

“What?” He was still staring goggle-eyed at a now confused Harry. Harry suddenly felt a bit bad.

“I'm sorry, but that's just what I think,” he stammered. “I didn't mean to offend you...” he trailed off as Wally started laughing.

“You thought, hahaha, you thought that – that there were a group of people -” he burst out laughing again, “that there was a group of people running around naked? Oh my God!” Wally fully cracked, and fell off his chair. Harry watched with great confusion as he rolled around the floor, howling his amusement out.

“Well, what was I supposed to think!” He cried indignantly. “You pointed at my clothes and said something about 'flashing' – which was very rude, by the way!” His admonishment was drowned out by another peal of laughter from the redhead. Harry trailed off, waiting for the man to calm down. Finally, Wally dragged himself up into his chair, still chuckling every now and then.

“Harry, I think we've had a misunderstanding,” Wally said, amusement colouring his voice. “That shirt you are wearing,” he gestured at Harry's lightning-bold t-shirt “has the Flash's insignia on it. The Flash is a Superhero,” he explained, correctly guessing that Harry was going to ask who that Flash was. Harry digested that for a moment. Finally, he formulated a question.

“A Super-what?” he asked.

This time Wally was blinking at him incredulously. 

“A Superhero, Harry. Don't you know about them? I'm sure there are some in Britain...” Wally trailed off uncertainly, before looking inquiringly at Harry. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, most of the year I'm up at school in Scotland,” he explained. “We barely get any local news there – it's pretty sheltered,” he concluded lamely. Well, it's true, he thought. When it came to the Muggle world, the British magicals were almost like Rapunzel with how much they had shut themselves away. He was surprised Hermione had never mentioned Superheroes, though. She was supposed to know everything. 

“Oh,” Wally breathed in apparent understanding. “Well, cool! Now I can give you a crash course in the Supers!” he cried gleefully. With that he launched into a detailed and enthusiastic overview of the Flash, Central City's personal Superhero, the Justice League and their work around the world, and the Big Seven, one of which was the Flash. Wally seemed particularly enamoured of the Flash. Harry supposed it was a bit like supporting a Quidditch team – you enjoyed watching them all, but there were one or two that you chose to root for especially. Wally seemed to have selected the Flash as his main idol, but he also showed a fair amount of reverence towards the 'Big Seven'. Indeed, there was a slight tone of fear in his voice when he talked about Batman, and he almost had stars in his eyes when he gushed about Superman.

Harry was mildly bewildered by the onslaught of information, but he enjoyed Wally's company and his enthusiasm for the topic, so he listened with a slight smile on his face as Wally went on, all the while eating his lunch. After a while, Harry noticed that Wally never seemed to finish his food, and just kept on eating and eating without getting full. Harry himself had tucked away a delicious sandwich, and was just sipping away at his tea while Wally went on. 

Finally, Wally heaved out a great sigh and pushed his miraculously empty plate away, and glanced at his watch. He yelped suddenly, and stood up quickly, hitting his legs on the underside of the table.

“Harry, I'm really sorry, but I've gotta run!” he said as he threw some money down on the table. “My break's been over forever – the time really flew by!”

“No problem,” Harry said, also standing up. “It was nice talking to you Wally, thanks for the information.”

“No problem! If you want to know more about the Flash, you should check out the Flash Museum! It's only a few blocks away. I've really gotta run though, Harry,” Wally said regretfully. He suddenly patted his pockets. “Hey I know,” he pulled out a small square of paper, “here's my card! Call if you want a tour around town – I know all the best places to eat! See you around, Harry!” With that, Wally sped out of the diner. He was almost moving too fast, but Harry shook his head and inspected the card that had been thrust into his hand.

Wallace West  
Central City Crime Lab  
Forensic Scientist

He's a scientist? Harry wondered incredulously. He doesn't seem the type. I thought he'd work at a video store or something. Harry wasn't sure about Muggle education – he had honestly stopped paying attention after he was told he was a wizard – but Wally seemed a bit young to be a certified Forensic Scientist. Whatever that was. Harry shrugged and left the diner, after paying for his meal. He supposed he could go check out the Flash Museum before heading back to Metropolis. These Superheroes were actually kind of interesting. He'd have loads to tell Ron when he got back! And Hermione might be impressed that he had gone to a museum during his vacation. He grinned to himself, before remembering that he was angry with his friends and they would probably have a bit of a fight before he could actually tell them about his summer. He sighed and walked down the street.

The Flash Museum was actually rather easy to find. There were signs everywhere pointing it out, and it was a very large and impressive building. Harry paid the rather low entrance fee, and wandered around, looking at the displays and reading the stories attached to them.

It was really fascinating stuff, he thought. It was much better than History of Magic – who cared about Wendelin the Weird and her penchant for immolation when there were villains like Captain Cold and the Mirror Master around? And the Flash had defeated them all! Harry had to admit, he may have caught Wally's liking for the Flash. Harry loved going fast – there was nothing like zooming around on his Firebolt, diving and swooping at break-neck speeds – and the Flash turned that skill toward saving people. And he did so while sporting a Gryffindor-red suit with Harry's lightning bolt on it – it was like the Flash was Harry's personal hero!

Harry smiled at the thought. What would the Wizarding world think of their saviour now that he was all starry-eyed over a Muggle Superhero. The purebloods would probably faint. Just as that whimsical thought was crossing his mind, there was a loud explosion, and a wall of the museum burst in. Through the gaping hole walked a chiseled man in a blue uniform with a large boomerang slung across his shoulders.

“Hello from Down Under, little Flash fans!” he yelled in a drawling voice. “Captain Boomerang's making his return!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'd love your thoughts on this chapter - I was trying to go for funny. Wally is a pretty funny guy, and Harry can be a bit clueless but hysterical at the same time (in my mind).
> 
> I'd love to hear from you :D
> 
> DarkPhoenix


	5. Fight at the Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Flash POV, a bit of conflict, a bit of puppy love.... and lots of speedy running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey! Here's another chapter, this time mostly from Wally's POV. I thought it would be interesting to look into how he sees the world. I hope my theorizing makes sense!
> 
> Disclaimers: I don't own the characters or places used in this fic. Promise.
> 
> Warnings: .... magic and superheroes? Developing crushes? .... explosives.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 5

Wally made his way back to the labs in a state of subdued shock. He had actually lost track of time. Usually, events went so slowly that he was almost bored to tears. He had to pace himself against clocks and other people to make sure he didn't go too fast. That lunch break with Harry, however, had made him feel almost normal. The kid was hilarious, and Wally enjoyed their conversation – or whatever you wanted to call it – so much that the time literally flew by. 

Wally snickered to himself as he remembered Harry's expression. Those crazy-green eyes covered by the flyaway black hair popped open in shock, the pale cheeks flushed with embarrassed indignation ... it was too cute. Wally had almost wanted to coo over the teen, but in retrospect he was glad he hadn't. Harry would have thought him even more of a pervert.

At that thought, Wally was almost incapacitated yet again as he made his way to his workstation. His coworkers were looking at him with amused indulgence as he chortled under his breath. He could just imagine the League's reaction to someone thinking they were a bunch of streakers! Supes would blush and stammer, Diana would get all worked up about her outfit, and Bats would scowl disapprovingly. Wally's eyes widened at the thought of Superman – or even worse, Batman! - engaging in the activities Harry had probably pictured.

Wally worked with a huge grin on his face for the rest of the afternoon, and thinking about Harry seemed to make the time go more quickly. The usual agonizing waits for machines to run and evidence to scan were filled up with a soft British accent and an incredulous gaze. As he was nearing the end of his shift, Wally realized just how much he had been thinking about Harry, and grimaced. Thinking faster than light had its ups and downs, but the amount of time that he had spent thinking about the British boy was verging on obsession. He felt vaguely ashamed – not because he was thinking about a guy (he was affably bisexual), but because Harry was so young! Maybe he really was a pervert!

Wally sighed, and saw the clock's minute hand flick to the twelve. Consciously moving slowly, he took off his lab coat and strolled to the exit, saying goodbye to his coworkers. Just before he left, he slipped into a supply closet and quietly shut the door. He lightly tapped the communicator in his ear and drawled out, 

“Beam me up, uh – Bats? J'onn? Red -”

His guesswork was interrupted as his form shifted and an energized beam connected with him. Most of the Leaguers didn't know exactly how the teleportation system worked; they just trusted that it did and used it to commute to the Watchtower. Wally, however, had the dubious benefit of knowing how to shift his individual molecules at the speed of light. This meant he felt exactly what was going on with the teleportation, and having his entire being shifted like that always baffled his mind and made him a bit loopy for a while. Most Leaguers assumed Wally was naturally a goofball due to all the pranks he played on the Tower, and how hyper he always was. The truth was, the teleportation was what got him so jittery and energized. It was an incredible rush!

Once all of his particles were in order – and yes, Wally had to wait until they reassembled, otherwise he'd be running around with missing molecules – he made a quick dash for the kitchen. Batman always made acerbic (nice word, Wally!) comments about eating the Justice League into bankruptcy, and J'onn would quietly mourn all of the Oreos that Wally found (and, of course, ate immediately). Wally would just reply that if they wanted the Scarlet Speedster to keep speeding, he needed his fuel. And his super-secret identity couldn't always afford fuel. Then he would attempt puppy eyes from behind his mask, and Superman would cave, followed by the rest of the original team. Long story short, Wally got free meals. Score!

A few more seconds passed very slowly and Wally made his way to the observation room. J'onn and Bats were there, staring at various screens. Wally flitted across the floor to peer over their shoulders, and saw that Wonder Woman was in the process of tying up some robbers with that golden lasso of hers, and John was doing some green-glowy outer-space thingy. Hawk Girl was smashing up people in somewhere that looked vaguely tropical, and there were many other League members taking care of any problem the world was having. Which meant that there was really nothing for the Flash to do. Boring!

As Wally thought about things the Flash could be doing, he again thought about the conversation that he and Harry had had. And he looked around the watchtower, and imagined all of the Superheroes doing what Harry had originally thought they did. There was Green Arrow (hot damn!) and Black Canary (here Wally mentally wolf whistled), as well as Hawkman (his outfit didn't really leave anything to the imagination, but Wally still wouldn't mind the ripped Thanagarian streaking). He started to snicker, and saw Batman shooting a glare out of the corner of his... mask? Eye-holes? It was a very good glare, regardless. J'onn didn't turn, but instead Wally felt a questioning brush against his mind. Quickly (as if he did things any other way!) Wally pushed his encounter with Harry to the forefront of his mind. Just to spice things up, he also added images of Question, GL, and Supes, for J'onn's telepathic viewing pleasure. He didn't dare imagine Bats. Bats would find out. And Bats would hurt him. Wally shivered, just as J'onn let out a choking noise and coughed subtly.

This had Batman fully turning his head to look at the Martian, and somehow he managed to raise a questioning eyebrow through the cowl. J'onn was only able to mutter, “Wally had an interesting encounter this afternoon,” before turning to stare determinedly at the screens.

Wally let out a full blown cackle, that stopped quite suddenly when he felt Batman's gaze on him. Gulping, he hastened to explain.

“So, I met this British guy on my lunch break,” he began, but was cut off by Superman, who had just entered the room.

“Flash, if this is another story about your love life, I'm not sure that this is the appropriate place...” he trailed off as Wally shook his head rapidly (which resulted in Wally's head practically disappearing in a red blur).

“No, Supes! Although, the guy was amazingly adorable...” Batman cleared his throat, “that's not what I was getting at! He was wearing a Flash t-shirt – because that's the best one – and I asked him if he liked the Flash. Just being polite, scoping out my fans, you know. Well, Bats, you don't, but...” there was another heated glare, and he continued, the words tripping out of his mouth in an effort to appease the Bat Glare (tm). “Uhh... where was I? Oh yeah! So the guy starts freaking out, and acting scandalized, and when he finds out that there's a lot of people like the Flash, and that they've formed an organization, he was so red he could have replaced me!” Superman snorted and sat down at a monitor.

“Sure, Flash. Was there a point to all this? So the guy has a problem with the Justice League...” again Flash cut in before Superman could finish his statement.

“That's totally not it, Big Guy! The guys had no clue about the League at all, or about Superheroes! He thought we were an organization of streakers!”

Superman started choking, while J'onn kept on staring intently at a screen (on which nothing was happening). Batman's eyes narrowed (again, under the cowl!) and his mouth twitched an infinitesimal amount. Most wouldn't catch it, but Wally lived so fast he noticed things like that. Turns out the Bat did have a few ticks. Then he heard quiet laughter and murmuring from behind him. The four original members turned, and saw that a lot of the Leaguers were blatantly eavesdropping. And laughing. And, in some cases, turning red or eying each other speculatively.

Wally tended to forget that many heroes held the Original Seven in awe, and would try to listen in when two or more were gathered in the same place. Four at once, and one of them being Superman, was almost irresistible.

Batman unleashed his trademarked glare upon them (Wally almost felt sorry, but reminded himself that everyone gets their fair share of the Bat Glare), and they scattered, trying to look busy.

Finally, Superman recovered himself, and looked at Wally, a light blush lingering on his cheeks. 

“I hope you set him straight?” he inquired.

“Well, I'd hope he'd be at the very least bisexual...” here Superman started spluttering again, and Batman unleashed the glare once more. Didn't he get tired of constantly glaring? Wally sighed, and said, “Yes, I told him all about Superheroes, and the Justice League, and how the Flash is the best one ever. I even pointed out the direction of the Flash museum. So, I've educated someone today. Good deed – done-zo!”

“I hope you have another one to spare,” J'onn murmured. Batman, Superman, and Wally turned to look at him, and the screen he was staring at. “There is a disturbance in Central City. The Museum. I assume you would like to take care of it?”

Flash stared in horror as Captain Boomerang made his move on the Flash Museum. OhmyGodIsentHarrythereisheOK?Ohnocrapcrapcrap – he started moving to the door before J'onn had finished speaking, and was able to yell out “I'm on it! Start up the transporter!” before he had moved out of the range of everyone but Superman's hearing.

The seconds it took for the teleporter to activate were agony for Wally – all the while he was thinking about the damage Captain Boomerang could be causing. He knew the guy was almost harmless compared to some of the other villains out there, but he felt guilty about sending Harry into possible danger.

Finally, the teleporter arranged for him to be re-arranged just outside the museum. Wally waited tensely as the last few molecules drifted into place – there! He was off, into the gaping hole left by Captain Boomerang.

He looked around frantically. There was a museum guide, ushering people to safety. They were fine. There was an older couple, trying to get over the rubble. As fast as he could (well, not really but faster than normal people could) he darted over and carried them both outside, setting them down carefully. He went back in, searching for Captain Boomerang. He careened down a hallway, past models of his exploits and victories, until he heard a loud Australian voice shouting something threatening. He wasn't sure on the wording, he was just focused on getting there. What was the point of being the fasted man alive if you couldn't get where you want to go when you want to be there!!

Wally rounded a corner and saw something that almost stopped his heart. A boomerang had missed its target and come back around towards its thrower. The problem was, in between the boomerang and its Captain was a little girl, cowering behind a display. At the same time, another boomerang was about to set off what Wally almost instantly recognized as a sequence bomb. This would set off a bunch of bombs planted city-wide almost instantaneously – Wally didn't think he could get all of them at once. He was torn with what to do, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a red and black blur that resolved itself into a familiar red t-shirt and messy black hair. It was Harry! He was speeding (and Wally meant this literally – the kid was fast! Normal, non-meta-human fast, but still!) towards the little girl, and would knock her out of the way in time. This left Wally free to snap the sound barrier and defuse the bomb. Which he did. Very quickly.

He turned away from the bomb and saw Harry taking cover, hugging the little girl to his chest. Wally sighed in relief, and turned to Captain Boomerang. 

“That wasn't the smartest thing to do there, Cap. You could have hurt someone,” he said severely.

“Ah, Flash,” Captain Boomerang sneered, completely disregarding what Wally had said. Jerk. “Fancy meeting you here. I see you've disrupted my little bombing scenario, but you're just in time for the second round!”

Wally groaned. What horrible puns. And that accent was so grating! Wally had been to Australia, and almost no one spoke with such an obnoxious accent! Captain Boomerang must cultivate it, or something. Then he picked up on what the villain was implying.

“What are you talking about? Blowing up the city isn't enough for you?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, on the off chance I couldn't destroy your precious city, I figured I'd just destroy this awful shrine they've built for you. When you diffused the sequence bomb, you activated the ones I set up in here. Sorry to say, mate, this little museum of yours is going down ... unda!” the villain started cackling madly, and Wally started looking around frantically for possible escape routes and trapped civilians. He thought he saw a red light out of the corner of his eye, and turned just as Captain Boomerang's laughter cut short and he slumped to the ground, unconscious. Wally blinked, then jumped as he heard an explosion from deep within the building. Another sequence then – the bombs would go off centrally and work their way out, destroying the building. He had to get the people out, before everything collapsed. He glanced at Harry and the little girl, and Harry hoisted her into his arms and yelled out,

“Get everyone out of here, I've got her.” Wally watched as Harry darted away towards the exit, moving as fast as a human could go, the girl cradled protectively in his arms. This sight steeled Wally for what was to come – he unleashed the speed force and tore through the museum, enhancing his strength in order to pick up as many people as he could and deposit them safely outside. He lost track of how many times he re-entered the building, but he heard the dull roars of the bombs every time they went off. Finally, he thought he had everyone, and not a moment too soon. The museum was starting to collapse, and he scanned the building anxiously, hoping he hadn't missed anything.

Suddenly, there was a shifting in the dust at the entrance, and he saw a slight form stagger out. It was Harry, and he was dragging the unconscious Captain Boomerang behind him. Wally thought several things at once, as was his custom: Harry's there? I thought he got outside! He's got Captain Boomerang? I can't believe I forgot Captain Boomerang! That entrance is gonna go – right on top of Harry!

These thoughts spinning in his head caused Wally to do something he rarely ever did – he froze. He watched in horror as the entrance toppled toward the small British boy and the Australian villain, and his shocked eyed somehow met Harry's green ones. Those eyes darted upwards, and widened, before the boy's shoulders bunched up and he flung the Captain as far as he could with all his might. Unfortunately, this caused Harry to fall back slightly, even more under the collapsing stonework.

This jerked Wally into action. Running so hard he thought his heart would burst, he made his way towards Harry. There was a huge rock over Harry's head. It was falling. Wally tried to run faster. The rubble was ten inches from crushing Harry's skull. Wally's world was a blur, his focus entirely on Harry. Five inches and those green, green eyes would be smashed in. No, don't think about that, just run. Breathe. Run. Three inches. Reach. Grab. Stop. He thought he saw the rock graze Harry's temple, and he snatched the boy to his chest. Turn. Run. Run. Run! 

“FLASH!”

Wally had entered a kind of daze, and the abrupt yell through his communicator managed to snap him out of it.

“Y-yeah? Bats? That you?” He asked shakily.

“Yes. Are you alright? Do you need backup?” Batman asked, sounding impatient. Wally smiled. He knew that Batman's snapping at him meant he was worried. 

“I think it's alright. Just need a cleanup crew, and maybe some paramedics for shock -” he cut off as he saw a trickle of red creep its way out from under Harry's messy hair.

“Crap!” he exclaimed.

“Flash? What's the matter?” great, now Bats actually sounded concerned.

“Uh, I gotta take care of something, could you arrange cleanup? ThanksBats,” Wally said in a rush, anxious to see what was wrong with Harry. He was unconscious, but hopefully it wasn't a big deal. He brought the boy over to a grassy area, and set him down. In the periphery of his vision, he saw Captain Boomerang being tended to by paramedics, with the police trying to wake him. Wally turned his attention back to Harry.

He brushed his hair back from his face in order to look at the wound. It was bleeding fairly steadily, as most head injuries do, so Wally told himself not to panic. He glanced at the paramedics. Intellectually he knew he could get to them and back faster than blinking, but he didn't want to leave Harry's side. Not when he was injured like this.

Taking a deep breath, he sped over to the paramedics, grabbed some things that looked good for patching people up, blurbed out “I'mborrowingthesethanksbye!” and raced back to Harry.

He carefully dabbed away the blood, and lightly disinfected the cut. As he cleared away the red, his heart almost stopped at the sight of a jagged red line on Harry's head. Was it his fault Harry's face was disfigured? Never mind that it was a cool-looking scar – Wally would never forgive himself for not moving fast enough. But no, on closer inspection, he saw that the scar was an old one, just very red. He wondered what had left it, and smiled, thinking of how similar it was to his own lightning insignia. That must have been why Harry bought the shirt in the first place, if he didn't know about superheroes and the Flash. 

Smiling, he bandaged up Harry's head, sure that no serious damage had occurred, and breathed a sigh of relief when Harry started to stir. Green eyes blinked up at him and he grinned. Harry was OK!

“All right there?” he asked the still-dazed British boy.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Harry muttered thickly.

Wally grinned. He was so jazzed that Harry was well, it was coming out as hyper over-happiness. “Well,” he said, “that was the reason we need Superheroes. That there, was a villain, and it's my job to try and stop their nefarious doings. I didn't quite succeed, but I don't think anyone got hurt. Besides you,” he added, looking guiltily at Harry's bandaged head.

Following his gaze, Harry reached up and prodded the bandages. He snorted. “I've had worse,” he claimed in a dry voice, and Wally frowned. Judging by the scar, he guessed it was true, but he wished Harry hadn't said it with such accepting nonchalance. He shook his head.

“Well, I guess that's one way to introduce you to Central City, tourist. Meeting the resident hero, and one of his villains all in one day. Nice shirt, by the way,” Wally said, winking at the suddenly flushing teen.

“Ah, you're the – the Flash, then?” Harry asked, still blushing furiously. Wally snickered to himself. Harry was probably remembering their earlier misunderstanding. “Ah, cool. Great. Wait, how did you know I'm a tourist?” he asked, his head tilting in an adorable manner.

Wally coughed to clear his throat, and said, “well, your accent. British, right? It's cool.”

Harry blinked, and Wally cursed internally. He was probably having some major deja vu – they had discussed his accent at lunch! And Wally never really bothered to change his voice much... crap. But Harry seemed to have shrugged it off.

“Yeah,” he said, “I'm actually staying in...” Harry trailed off, looking over Wally's shoulder. His face rearranged itself into a horrified expression. Wally turned, tensed and ready to fight, but saw nothing worse than a rather spectacular sunset. He turned back to Harry.

“What's the matter?” He asked curiously.

“I'm – I'm staying with my relatives in Metropolis, and my Aunt wanted me back by evening,” Harry stammered. “I'll be in a load of trouble, oh, I am so late!” he wailed.

Wally laughed, and Harry looked at him with hurt in his eyes. 

“Don't worry about it, England!” Wally sang. “You're with the Fastest Man Alive! I'll get you there before the sun is fully down.” Grinning, he scooped Harry up into his arms. Man, the teen was light! Was his enhanced strength still on? What the heck!

Harry had that cute blush thing going again, and was spluttering and waving his arms.

“You really don't need to – I don't want to be a bother!” he yelled out.

Wally laughed again, and said, “England, this is the kind of things heroes do! We save people! Now, let me rescue you from the terrible and dreaded curfew!”

Harry settled down in his arms, and muttered something about 'waste of time'. Wally rolled his eyes and thought, if he only knew just how much time I had to kill. 

Wally raced across the ground, taking care not to go too fast – he didn't want to scare Harry. Looking down at his passenger's face, he was shocked by a huge grin.

“Can you go faster?” Harry yelled out.

Wally snorted. “Kid,” he said, “you haven't seen fast.” And he upped the speed, racing the sun towards Metropolis. As they reached Harry's hotel, the sky was a brilliant orange, and Flash zoomed into the side-entrance when he saw Harry tense at the curious stares they were getting. He set down the teen, who smiled shyly at him.

“Thanks,” he breathed out. “That was amazing. You must love to run – it was so exhilarating!” Wally's breath caught – Harry's green eyes sparkled, and his face was still flushed with excitement.

“You're welcome,” he said gruffly. “And yeah, running is awesome. You run pretty fast yourself, by the way. Saw you with the little girl. Thanks for that. And for getting the Captain out of there – he may be a villain, but I don't want him dead or anything...” Wally, you're rambling. Wrap it up! “Stop by Central any time – hopefully there isn't some heist going on – hope you have a good vacation!” He wanted to add in something personal, something that would let him see Harry sooner, but he couldn't. He was a hero, he had to keep it professional. And Harry was still a kid, for God's sake! Wally, let it go. Get out of there!

He coughed, and said, “Well, try to stay out of trouble, England,” and grinned his charming 'hero grin' before speeding off, away from the green-eyed teen.

Wow, Wally, could you get any more Boy Scout? 'Stay out of trouble'? You are SO LAME! Don't ever speak again.

Wally did a few laps around the state before he calmed down enough to go home, get out of uniform, and log the museum incident with the Watchtower. If he had known joining the League would require paperwork, he may just have chosen to be a vigilante. He hated paperwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I love all who leave me comments and/or kudos (note the heavy hinting)
> 
> But seriously, what do you think? Believable? Other than the magic and superheroes thing, that is. Heh.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> DarkPhoenix

**Author's Note:**

> So! What did you think? I am welcoming (more than) of any and all feedback! I try to cover all possible points, but a lot of things make sense in my head and may not translate into the story properly. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> DarkPhoenix


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